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The Orinda Booklets 

Phineas Fletcher 

Selected Poetry 


J. R. Tutin 

Cottingham near Hull 

Limited to 500 Copies 

" Thy very tt ante's a poet." 


" It is to his honour that Milton read and imitated 
{Phineas Flctcher\" 


"People seldom read this wise, tender, and sweet- 
voiced old fellow now ; so I will even copy the verses 
[Purple Island, XII. i.-vi.] I found for John to read." 
Mrs CRAIK : John Halifax, Gentleman. 



Prefatory Note 



I. Poetry of Love 

Love I. " Love is the sire, dam, nurse, and seed " 
,, II. " Great power of Love ! with what commanding 
fire" ...... 

,, III. "Love's sooner felt than seen: his substance 
thin" ...... 

,, IV. " Love is Hfe's end (an end, but never ending) " 
Daphne ....... 

Orpheus and Eurydice ..... 

Atyches' Soliloquy ...... 

II. Poetry of Nature 

The Seasons (To the Deity) . . . .13 

Time ....... 14 

Morning I. "The Morning fresh, dappling her horse 

with roses" . . .14 

,, II. "The bridegroom Sun, who late the Earth 

had spoused " . . .14 

Evening ....... 15 

Night I. " But see the stealing Night, with softly pace" 15 

,, II. " The cloudy Night came whirling up the sky " 15 

Flowers ....... 16 

A Lily ....... 17 

A Purple Flower ...... 17 



III. Miscellaneous 

The Shepherd's Life 
To the Soul I. "Fond Soul ! is this " 
,, II. " How is't, my soul" 

Thrice happy times 
A Hymn : " Drop, drop, slow tears " 
Death .... 

The Fall of Lucifer 
The Instability of Human Greatness 



IV. Impersonations 

Cosmos (The World or Ma 



Deilos (Fearfulness) 


Asotus (Prodigality) 


Pleonectes (Covetousness) 


Philotimus (Ambition) 


Colax (Flattery) 


Knowledge . 


Tapinus (Humility) 


Fido (Faith) 


Acoe (Hearing) 


Penitence . 




Androphilus (Gentleness) 


Parthenia (Chastity in the Single) 




Prefatory Note 

It is difficult to understand why certain poets of un- 
doubted merit — and Phineas Fletcher is a robust and 
nervous writer whom it is good to know — should long 
remain neglected while others are frequently reprmted, 
and therefore, it is to be presumed, continuously read. 
It may be hoped that a goodly proportion of the 
readers of John Halifax^ Gentleman^ who have had 
their curiosity piqued by Mrs Craik's praise of Phineas 
Fletcher, will be glad of an opportunity to read some 
portion of his work. 

Phineas Fletcher^son of one who has been 
described as "civilian, ambassador and poet" — was 
born in 1582, at the pastoral village of Cranbrook in 
Kent ; he was educated at Eton and Cambridge, stay- 
ing at the University, as student and Fellow, from 
1600 until 16 1 6. Then for five years he was chaplain 
at Risley in Derbyshire to Sir Henry Willoughby, and 
from 162 1 until his death, towards the close of 1650, 
he was rector of Hilgay in Norfolk. Despite the 
troubled times in which his later years were cast, he 
appears to have passed a quiet life conducive to con- 
templation. That his poetical genius was recognised 
by his contemporaries is shown by some striking 
tributes. Much of his work, we learn — from the 
records, not from its quality — was written when the 
poet was very young, though his first volume was not 
published until he had reached middle life ; and when 
his best remembered book was issued, he was over 
fifty years of age. 

It is by The Purple Island; or, the Isle 0/ Man, that 
this member of a distinguished family is best known ; 
and from that work — which with much of beauty and 


Prefatory Note 

much of true power has also much that has come to 
be regarded as merely "curious" — some striking " Im- 
personations" will be found in the following pages. 
The poem is a remarkable medley of genuine poetry 
and seventeenth-century physiology, of moral attributes 
and physical form. For literary students there is 
pleasant matter for investigation in tracing Milton's in- 
debtedness, when writing his great epic to another poem 
of Phineas Fletcher's, his Locustce. Fletcher's indebted- 
ness to Spenser is of course obvious to the most casual 
reader of the two poets, but that the former may be 
considered in the nature of a link between The Faerie 
Queene and Paradise Lost may come as a surprise 
to some readers. The Purple Island is Phineas 
Fletcher's most sustained piece of work, but there is 
also much that is excellent and memorable in the 
miscellaneous poems, and in the poetical play of 
Sicelides^ which he wrote in 1614, against a visit of 
King James to Cambridge ; there is true pathos and 
beauty, too, in the elegiac Elisa. In versification 
Phineas Fletcher is easy and melodious as becomes 
one who was hailed as "the Spenser of this age" ; in 
his descriptions of nature and country life he is often 
especially felicitous for his time ; his imagery is fre- 
quently impressive, while in the use of " conceits " he is 
no less happy than those other poets who later in the 
century made of " conceit " poetry a new power, and 
of his epigrammatic condensation many instances 
might be cited — all of which qualities are to be found 
by sympathetic readers duly exampled in this small 
selection from his works. — W. J. 

Phineas Fletcher 

I . Poetry of Love 


Love is the sire, dam, nurse, and seed 
Of all that earth, air, waters breed : 
All these, earth, water, air, fire. 
Though contraries, in love conspire. 
Fond painters : Love is not a lad 
With bow, and shafts, and feathers clad, 
As he is fancied in the brain 
Of some loose loving idle swain. 
Much sooner is he felt than seen ; 
His substance subtle, slight, and thin. 
Oft leaps he from the glancing eyes ; 
Oft in some smooth mount he lies ; 
Soonest he wins, the fastest flies ; 
Oft lurks he 'twixt the ruddy lips, 
Thence, while the heart his nectar sips, 
Down to the soul the poison slips ; 
Oft in a voice creeps down the ear ; 
Oft hides his darts in golden hair ; 
Oft blushing cheeks do light his fires ; 
Oft in a smooth soft skin retires ; 
Often in smiles, often in tears, 
His flaming heat in water bears ; 
When nothing else kindles desire, 
Even Virtue's self shall blow the fire. 
Love with a thousand darts abounds. 
Surest and deepest virtue wounds ; 


Phineas Fletcher 

Oft himself becomes a dart, 
And love with love doth love impart. 
Thou painful pleasure, pleasing pain, 
Thou gainful loss, thou losing gain, 
Thou bitter sweet, easing disease, 
How dost thou by displeasing please ? 
How dost thou thus bewitch the heart, 
To live in hate, to joy in smart, 
To think itself most bound when free, 
And freest in its slavery ? 
Every creature is thy debtor ; 
None but loves, some worse, some better : 
Only in love they happy prove 
Who love what most deserves their love. 


Great power of Love ! with what commanding fire 
Dost thou inflame the world's wide regiment, 
And kindly heat in every heart inspire ! 
Nothing is free from thy sweet government : 

Fish burn in seas ; beasts, birds thy weapons prove ; 

By thee dead elements and heavens move. 
Which void of sense itself, yet are not void of love. 




Love's sooner felt than seen : his substance thin 
Betwixt those snowy mounts in ambush lies ; 
Oft in the eyes he spreads his subtle gin. 
He therefore soonest wins that fastest flies. 
Fly thence, my dear ; fly fast, my Thomalin : 
Who him encounters once, for ever dies. 
But if he lurk between the ruddy lips. 
Unhappy soul, that thence his nectar sips, 
While down into his heart the sugar'd poison slips ! 

Phineas Fletcher 

Oft in a voice he creeps down through the ear, 
Oft from a blushing cheek he lights his fire ; 
Oft shrouds his golden flame in likest hair, 
Oft in a soft-smooth skin doth close retire : 
Oft in a smile, oft in a silent tear, 
And if all fail, yet Virtue's self he'll hire : 

Himselfs a dart, when nothing else can move. 

Who then the captive soul can well reprove. 
When Love, and Virtue's self become the darts of Love ? 



Love is life's end, (an end, but never ending) 
All joys, all sweets, all happiness, awarding ; 
Love is life's wealth, (ne'er spent, but ever spending) 
More rich by giving, taking by discarding ; 
Love's life's reward, rewarded in rewarding : 

Then from thy wretched heart fond care remove : 
Ah ! shouldst thou live but once love's sweets to prove 
Thou wilt not love to live, unless thou live to love. 


What tongue, what thought can paint my love's 

perfection .'' 
So sweet hath nature pourtray'd every [grace] 
That art will prove that artist's imperfection, 
Who, when no eye dare view, dares limn her face. 
Phoeljus, in vain I call thy help to blaze 

More light than thine, a light that never fell : 
Thou tell'st what's done in Heaven, in Earth, and 

Her worth thou may'st admire ; there are no words to 



Phineas Fletcher 

She is like thee, or thou art like her rather : 
Such as her hair, thy beams ; thy single light, 
As her twin-suns : that creature, then, I gather, 
Twice heavenly is, where two suns shine so bright : 
So thou, as she confound'st the gazing sight : 

Thy absence is my night, her absence hell. 

Since then in all thyself she doth excel, 
What is beyond thyself, how canst thou hope to 

First her I saw, when tired with hunting toil, 
In shady grove spent with the weary chase. 
Her naked breast lay open to the spoil ; 
The crystal humour trickling down apace, 
Like ropes of pearl, her neck and breast enlace : 
The air (my rival air) did coolly glide 
Through every part : such when my love I spied. 
So soon I saw my Love, so soon I loved and died. 

Her face two colours paint ; the first a flame 
(Yet she all cold), a flame in rosy dye, 
Which sweetly blushes hke the Morning's shame : 
The second snow, such as on Alps doth lie. 
And safely there the sun doth bold defie : 

Yet this cold snow can kindle hot desire. 

Thou miracle ; mar'l not, if I admire 
How flame should coldly freeze, and snow should burn 
as fire. 

Her slender waist, her hand, that dainty breast, 
Her cheek, her forehead, eye, and flaming hair, 
And those hid beauties, which must sure be best ; 
Of vain to speak, when words will more impair : 
In all the fairs she is the fairest fair. 

Cease, then, vain words ; well may you shew 

But not her worth : the mind her sweet perfection 
Admires : how should it then give the lame tongue 
direction ? 

Phineas Fletcher 

Orpheus and Eurydice 

Thus Orpheus wan his lost Eurydice, 
Whom some deaf snake, that could no music hear, 
Or some blind newt, that could no beauty see. 
Thinking to kiss, killed with his forked spear ; 

He, when his plaints on earth were vainly spent, 

Down to Avernus' river boldly went. 
And charm'd the meagre ghosts with mournful 

There what his mother, fair Calliope, 

From Phoebus' harp and Muses' spring had brought 

With sharpest grief for his Eurydice 

And love, redoubling grief, had newly taught him, 
He lavish'd out, and with his potent spell 
Bent all the rigorous powers of stubborn Hell : 

He first brought Pity down with rigid ghosts to dwell. 

Th' amazed shades came flocking round about. 
Nor cared they now to pass the Stygian ford. 
All Hell came running there — an hideous rout — 
And dropt a silent tear for every word : 
The aged ferryman shoved out his boat, 
But that without his help did thither float ; 
And having ta'en him in, came dancing on the moat. 

The hungry Tantal might have filled him now. 
And with large draughts swill'd in the standing pool : 
The fruit hung listening on the wond'ring bough. 
Forgetting Hell's command ; but he — ah fool ! — 

Forgot his starved taste, his ears to fill. 

Ixion's turning-wheel unmov'd stood still ; 
But he was rapt as much with powerful music's skill. 

Tired Sisyphus sat on his resting stone, 
And hoped at length his labour done for ever : 

Phineas Fletcher 

The vulture, feeding on his pleasing moan, 
Glutted with music, scorn'd grown Tityus' liver ; 
The Furies flung their snaky whips away. 
And molt in tears at his enchanting lay. 
No screeches now were heard ; all Hell kept holiday. 

That treble Dog, whose voice ne'er quiet, fears 
All that in endless Night's sad kingdom dwell. 
Stood pricking up his thrice two list'ning ears, 
With greedy joy drinking the sacred spell. 
And, softly whining, pitied much his wrongs : 
And now first silent at those dainty songs 
Oft wish'd himself more ears, and fewer mouths and 

At length return'd with his Eurydice, 

But with this law, not to return his eyes. 

Till he was past the laws of Tartary ; 

— Alas ! who gives Love laws in miseries ? 
Love is love's law ; love but to love is tied — 
Now when the dawns of neighbour Day he spied. 

Ah wretch ! Eurydice he saw, and lost, and died. 

Atyches' Soliloquy 

So : I am alone, there's none but I, 

My grief, my love, my wonted company. 

And which best fits a grieved lover's sprite, 

The silent stars and solitary night. 

Tell me, heaven's sentinels, that compass round 

This ball of earth, on earth was never found 

A love like mine, so long, so truly served. 

Whose wage is hate ; have all my pains deserved 

Contempt } mine and her ; for she dear affected : 

The more I loved the more I was neglected. 

Since thou canst love where thou hast hatred proved, 

Olinda, how canst thou hate where thou art loved ? 

Thy body is mine by conquest, but I find. 

Thy body is not always with thy mind. 

Phineas Fletcher 

Give both or none, or if but one o' th' two 

Give me thy mind, and let thy body go. 

If this without thy mind I only have, 

What giv'st thou more to me than to thy grave ? 

Prove me my dear, what canst thou hate in me? 

Unless my love, my love still bent on thee ? 

My name's Thalander, perhaps it doth displease thee ; 

I will refuse my name if that may ease thee. 

Thalander to exile we'll still confine, 

And I'll be Atyches, so I be thine. 

1 1. Poetry of Nature 
The Seasons 

To the Deity 

Thou bid'st the sun piece out the ling'ring day, 
Glittering in golden fleece : the lovely Spring 
Comes dancing on ; the primrose strows her way. 
And satin violet : lambs wantoning 
Bound o'er the hillocks in their sportful play : 
The wood-musicians chant and cheer'ly sing ; 

The world seems new, yet old by youth's accruing. 

Ah ! wretched men, so wretched world pursuing. 
Which still grows worse with age, and older by 

At thy command th' Earth travails of her fruit ; 

The sun yields longer labour, shorter sleep ; 

Outruns the Lion in his hot pursuit ; 

Then of the golden Crab learns back to creep : 

Thou Autumn bid'st — dress'd in straw-yellow suit — 

To press, tun, hide his grapes in cellars, deep : 

Thou cloth'st the Earth with freeze instead of grass, 
While keen-breath'd Winter steels her furrowed fiice, 

And vials rivers up, and seas, in crystal glass. 


Phineas Fletcher 

Slow Time, which every hour grow'st old and young, 

Which every minute die'st and liv'st again ; 

Which mak'st the strong man weak, the weak man 

strong : 
Sad Time, which fly'st in joy, but creep'st in pain, 
Thy steps uneven are still too short or long : 
Devouring Time, who bear'st a fruitful train, 
And eat'st whate'er thou bear'st. 



The Morning fresh, dappling her horse with roses, 
— Vext at the ling'ring shades, that long had left her 
In Tithon's freezing arms— the light discloses ; 
And chasing Night, of rule and heaven bereft her : 
The Sun with gentle beams his rage disguises. 
And like aspiring tyrants, temporises ; 
Never to be endured but when he falls or rises. 



The bridegroom Sun, who late the earth had spoused, 
Leaves his star-chamber ; early in the East 
He shook his sparkling locks, head lively roused, 
While Morn his couch with blushing roses dress'd ; 
His shines the Earth soon latched to gild her flowers : 
Phosphor his gold-fleec'd drove folds in their bowers, 
Which all the night had grazed about th' Olympic 

The cheerful lark, mounting from early bed. 
With sweet salutes awakes the drowsy light ; 
The earth she left, and up to heaven is fled ; 
There chants her Maker's praises out of sight : 


Phineas Fletcher 

Earth seems a molehill, men but ants to be ; 
Teaching proud men, that soar to high degree, 
The farther up they climb, the less they seem, and see. 


But see, the smoke mounting in village nigh. 
With folded wreaths steals through the quiet air ; 
And mixed with dusky shades in Eastern sky 
Begins the night, and warns us home repair : 

Bright Vesper now hath changed his name and place, 
And twinkles in the heaven with doubtful face : 
Home then my full-fed lambs ; the night comes, home 



But see the stealing Night, with softly pace. 
To fly the western Sun, creeps up the East ; 
Cold Hesper 'gins unmask his evening face. 
And calls the winking stars from drowsy rest : 

Home then, my lambs ; the falling drops eschew : 
To-morrow shall ye feast in pastures new. 
And with the rising sun banquet on pearled dew. 



The cloudy Night came whirling up the sky 
And scattering round the dews, which first she drew 
From milky poppies, loads the drowsy eye : 
The wat'ry moon, cold Vesper and his crew 
Light up the tapers : to the sun they fly 
And at his blazing flame their sparks renew. 
Oh why should earthly lights then scorn to tine 
Their lamps alone at that first Sun divine ! 
Hence as false falling stars, as rotten wood they shine. 


Phineas Fletcher 

Her sable mantle was embroidered gay 
With silver beams, with spangles round beset : 
Four steeds her chariot drew ; the first was gray, 
The second blue, third brown, fourth black as jet. 
The hallooing owl, her post, prepares the way. 
And winged dreams — as gnat-swarms — flutt'ring, let 

Sad Sleep, who fain his eyes in rest would steep. 

Why then at death do weary mortals weep ? 
Sleep's but a shorter death, death's but a longer sleep. 

And now the world, and dreams themselves were 

In deadly sleep ; the labourer snorteth fast, 

His brawny arms unbent ; his limbs unbound 

As dead, forget ail toil to come or past ; 

Only sad Guilt, and troubled Greatness, crown'd 

With heavy gold and care, no rest can taste. 
Go then vain man, go pill' the live and dead , 
Buy, sell, fawn, flatter, rise, then couch thy head 

In proud but dangerous gold : in silk but restless bed. 



The flowers that frighted with sharp Winter's dread 
Retire into their mother Tellus' womb, 
Yet in the spring in troops new-mustered 
Peep out again from their unfrozen tomb : 

The early violet will fresh arise, 

And spreading his flower'd purple to the skies, 
Boldly the little elf the Winter's spite defies. 

The hedge, green satin, pinked and cut arrays, 

The heliotrope to cloth of gold aspires ; 

In hundred-colour'd silks the tulip plays, 

Th' imperial flower his neck with pea*-l attires, 
The lily high her silver grograin rears, 
The pansy her wrought velvet garment bears ; 

The red rose scarlet, and the Provence, damask wears. 

Phineas Fletcher 

A Lily 

All so a lily, pressed with heavy rain, 
Which fills her cup with showers up to the brinks ; 
The weary stalk no longer can sustain 
The head, but low beneath the burden sinks : 
Or as a virgin rose her leaves displays, 
Whom too hot scorching beams quite disarrays ; 
Down flags her double ruff, and all her sweet decays. 

A Purple Flower 

So often have I seen a purple flower 
Fainting through heat, hang down her drooping head 
But soon refreshed with a welcome shower. 
Begins again her lively beauties spread. 

And with new pride her silken leaves display ; 

And while the Sun doth now more gently play, 
Lay out her swelling bosom to the smiling day. 

III. M iscellaneous 
The Shepherd's Life 

Thrice, oh thrice happy shepherd's life and state. 
When Courts are happiness' unhappy pawns ! 
His cottage low, and safely humble gate 
Shuts out proud Fortune, with her scorns and fawns 
No feared treason breaks his quiet sleep : 
Singing all day, his flocks he learns to keep ; 
Himself as innocent as are his simple sheep. 

No Serian worms he knows, that with their thread 
Draw out their silken lives ; nor silken pride : 
His lambs' warm fleece well fits his little need, 
Not in that proud Sidonian tincture dyed : 
B 17 

Phineas Fletcher 

No empty hopes, no courtly fears him fright ; 
No begging wants his middle fortune bite : 
But sweet Content exiles both Misery and Spite. 

Instead of music and base flattering tongues 
Which wait to first salute my lord's uprise ; 
The cheerful lark wakes him with early songs, 
And birds' sweet whistling notes unlock his eyes : 
In country plays is all the strife he uses, 
Or sing or dance unto the rural Muses ; 
And, but in music's sports, all differences refuses. 

His certain life, that never can deceive him, 
Is full of thousand sweets, and rich content : 
The smooth-leaved beeches in the field receive him 
With coolest shades, till noon-tide rage is spent ; 
His life is neither toss'd in boisterous seas 
Of troublous world, nor lost in slothful ease ; 
Pleased and full blest he lives when he his God can 

His bed of wool yields safe and quiet sleeps, 
While by his side his faithful spouse hath place ; 
His little son into his bosom creeps, 
The lively picture of his father's face : 

Never his humble house or state torment him ; 

Less he could like, if less his God had sent him ; 
And, when he dies, green turfs with grassy tomb content 

To the Soul 


Fond Soul ! is this 

Thy way to bliss ? 
Grasp both the Indies, let thy mighty hand 
The iron North and golden South command 

Phineas Fletcher 

Transcend the moon, 

Fasten thy throne 
Above the fix^d stars ; above expressions, 
Above thy thought enlarge thy vast possessions : 

Fond Soul ! all this 
Cannot make up thy bliss. 


All these are vain, 

Full, but with pain ; 
All creatures have their ends to serve, not bless thee ; 
As servants they may help, as lords oppress thee ; 

They vex in getting 

Used, lost with fretting ; 
Can slaves advance ? shades fill ? can grief give rest ? 
That which was cursed for thee can't make thee blest : 

They all are vain, 
And bring not bliss but pain. 


Fond Soul ! thy birth 

Is not of earth 
Or heaven ; thou earth and heaven itself survivest ; 
Though born in time, thou, dying. Time out-livest. 

They fail, deceive thee, 

They age, die, leave thee ; 
Soar up, immortal spirit, and mounting fly 
Into the arms of great Eternity : 

Not heaven or earth : 
He, He thy end and birth. 

To the Soul 


How is't, my soul, that thou giv'st eyes their sight 
To view their objects, yet hast none 
To see thine own ? 
Earth's, air's, heaven's beauties they discern : their light 


Phineas Fletcher 

Fair flowers admires ; their several dresses, 
Their golden tresses ; 
The lily, rose, the various tulip, scorning 
The pride of princes in their choice adorning. 

They joy to view the air's painted nations ; 
The peacock's train which th' head outvies 
With fairer eyes. 
And emulates the heavenly constellations ; 
The ostrich whose fair plume embraves 
Kings, captains, slaves ; 
The halcyons whose Triton-bills appease 
Curl'd waves, and with their eggs lay stormy seas. 

Pilots' fix'd eyes observe the Arctic Bear 
With all her unwash'd starry trains 
In heavenly plains. 
Night-travellers behold the moon to steer 
Her ship, sailing while ^^ol raves 
Through cloudy waves ; 
Our less world's suns with pleasure view the light 
Which gives all beauties beauty, them their sight. 


Thou that giv'st sight to clay, to blackness light, 
How art so dull, so dim in duty 
To view His beauty 
Who quickens every life, lights every light ? 
His height those eagles' eyes surpasses : 
Thou wants thy glasses : 
Take up that perspective, and view those streams 
Of light, and fill thy waning orb with beams. 

Then see the flowers clad in His liveries, 
And from His cheek, and lovely face 
Steal all their grace. 
See fowls from Him borrow their braveries 

Phineas Fletcher 

And all their feather-painted dresses 
From His fair tresses : 
See stars, and moon, the sun and all perfection 
Beg light, and life from His bright eyes' reflection. 

Look on His lips : heaven's gate there open lies ; 
Thence that grace-breathing Spirit blows, 
Thence honey flows. 
Look on His hands, the world's full treasures ; 
Fix all thy looks His breast upon 
Love's highest throne. 
And when thy sight that radiant beauty blears. 
And dazzles thy weak eyes, see with thine ears. 

Thrice Happy Times 

Happy, thrice happy times in silver age ! 

When generous plants advanced their lofty crest ; 

When Honour stoop'd to be learn'd Wisdom's page ; 

When baser weeds starv'd in their frozen nest ; 
When th' highest flying Muse still highest climbs : 
And Virtue's rise keeps down all rising crimes: 

Happy, thrice happy age ! happy, thrice happy times 

A Hymn 

Drop, drop, slow tears, and bathe those beauteous 

Which brought from Heaven the news and Prince of 

Peace : 
Cease not, wet eyes. His mercy to entreat ; 
To cry for vengeance sin doth never cease. 
In your deep floods drown all my faults and fears ; 
Nor let His eye see sin, but through my tears. 


Phineas Fletcher 


Who ne'er saw Death, may Death commend : 

Call it joy's prologue, trouble's end ; 

The pleasing sleep that quiet rocks him, 

Where neither care nor fancy mocks him. 

But who in nearer space doth eye him 

Next to hell, as hell, defy him : 

No state, no age, no sex can move him, 

No beggars prey, no kings reprove him : 

In midst of mirth and love's alarms 

He pulls the bride from bridegroom's arms ; 

The beauteous virgin he contemns. 

The guilty with the just condemns. 

All wear his cloth, and none denies. 

Dress'd in fresh colour'd liveries. 

Kings low as beggars lie in graves, 

Nobles as base, the free as slaves ; 

Blest who on virtue's life relying 

Dies to vice, thus lives by dying. 

But fond that making life thy treasure 

Surfeit'st in joy, art drunk in pleasure. 

Sweets do make the sour more tart, 

And pleasure sharps Death's keenest dart. 

Death's thought is death to those that live, 

In living joys, and never grieve. 

Hapless that happy art and know'st no tears 
Who ever lives in pleasure, lives in fears. 

The Fall of Lucifer 

The mid'st but lowest — in Hell's heraldry 

The deepest is the highest room — in state 

Sat lordly Lucifer : his fiery eye, 

Much swol'n with pride, but more with rage and hate, 

As censor, muster'd all his company ; 

Who round about with awful silence sate. 

Phineas Fletcher 

This do, this let rebellious spirits gain, 
Change God for Satan, Heaven's for Hell's sov'reign : 
O let him serve in Hell who scorns in Heaven to reign ! 

Ah, wretch ! who with ambitious cares oppress'd 
Long'st still for future, feel'st no present good : 
Despising to be better would'st be best. 
Good never ; who wilt serve thy lusting mood 
Yet all command : not he who rais'd his crest. 
But pull'd it down, hath high and firmly stood. 

Fool ! serve thy tow'ring lusts, grow still, still crave, 
Rule, reign : this comfort for thy greatness have. 
Now at thy top, thou art a great commanding slave. 

Thus fell this prince of darkness, once a bright 
And glorious star : he wilful turn'd away 
His borrowed globe from that eternal light : 
Himself he sought, so lost himself: his ray 
Vanish'd to smoke, his morning sunk in night, 
And never more shall see the springing day : 
To be in Heaven the second, he disdains : 
So now the first in Hell and flames he reigns, 
Crown'd once with joy and light : crown'd now with 
fire and pains. 

The Instability of Human 

Fond man, that looks on earth for happiness, 
And here long seeks what here is never found ! 
For all our good we hold from heav'n by lease. 
With many forfeits and conditions bound ; 
Nor can we pay the fine and rentage due : 
Though now but writ, and seal'd, and giv'n anew, 
Yet daily we it break, yet daily must renew. 

Why should'st thou here look for perpetual good. 
At every loss against heaven's face repining? 


Phineas Fletcher 

Do but behold where glorious cities stood, 
With gilded tops, and silver turrets shining ; 

There now the hart fearless of greyhound feeds, 

And loving pelican in safety breeds ; 
There screeching Satyrs fill the people's empty steads. 

Where is th' Assyrian Lion's golden hide, 
That all the East once grasp'd in lordly paw ? 
Where that great Persian Bear, whose swelling pride 
The Lion's self tore out with ravenous jaw ? 
Or he which 'twixt a Lion and a Pard, 
Through all the world with nimble pinions fared, 
And to his greedy whelps his conquer'd kingdoms 
shared ? 

Hardly the place of such antiquity, 

Or note of those great Monarchies we find : 

Only a fading verbal memory, 

And empty name in writ is left behind : 
But when his second life and glory fades. 
And sinks at length in Time's obscurer shades, 

A second fall succeeds, and double death invades. 

That monstrous Beast, which nurst in Tiber's fen 
Did all the world with hideous shape affray ; 
That fiU'd with costly spoil his gaping den. 
And trod down all the rest to dust and clay : 
His batt'ring horns puU'd out by civil hands. 
And iron teeth lie scatter'd on the sands ; 
Back'd, bridled by a monk, with seven heads yok^d 

And that black Vulture, which with deathful wing 
O'ershadows half the earth, whose dismal sight 
Frighted the Muses from their native spring. 
Already stoops, and flags with weary flight. 
Who then shall look for happiness beneath, 
Where each new day proclaims chance, change, and 
And life itself s as fleet as is the air we breathe ? 

Phineas Fletcher 

IV. I mpersonations 

(The World or Mammon) 

Caro the vanguard with the Dragon led, 
Cosmos the battle guides, with loud alarms ; 
Cosmos the first son to the Dragon red, 
Shining in seeming gold, and glitt'ring arms : 
Well might he seem a strong and gentle knight. 
As e'er was clad in steel and armour bright : 
But was a recreant base, a foul, false, cheating sprite. 

And as himself, such were his arms ; appearing 
Bright burnish'd gold, indeed base alchemy. 
Dim beetle eyes, and greedy worldling's bleering ; 
His shield was drest in night's sad livery, 
Where man-like apes a glow-worm compass round. 
Glad that in wintry night they fire had found ; 
Busy they puff and blow ; the word Mistake the ground. 

Mistake points all his darts ; his sunshines bright 
(Mistaken) light appears, sad lightnings prove : 
His clouds (mistook) seem lightning, turn to light ; 
His love true hatred is, his hatred love ; 

His shop, a pedlar's pack of apish fashion ; 

His honours, pleasures, joys are all vexation : 
His wages, glorious care ; sweet surfeits wooed dam- 

His liberal favours, complemental arts ; 
His high advancements, Alpine slipp'ry traits ; 
His smiling glances, death's most pleasing darts ; 
And (what he vaunts) his gifts are gilded baits : 


Phineas Fletcher 

Indeed he nothing is, yet all appears. 
Hapless earth's happy fools, that know no tears ! 
Who bathes in worldly joys, swims in a world of fears. 


Next to the Captain coward Deilos fared ; 

Him right before he as his shield protected, 

And following troops to back him as his guard ; 

Yet both his shield and guard (faint heart) suspected ; 
And sending often back his doubtful eye. 
By fearing taught unthought of treachery ; 

So made him enemies, by fearing enmity. 

Still did he look for some ensuing cross, 
Fearing such hap as never man befel : 
No mean he knows, but dreads each little loss 
— With tyranny of fear distraught — as hell. 

His sense he dare not trust, — nor eyes nor ears — 
And when no other cause of fright appears, 
Himself he much suspects, and fears his causeless fears. 

Harness'd with massy steel, for fence, not fight ; 

His sword unseemly long he ready drew ; 

At sudden shine of his own armour bright 

He started oft, and stared with ghastly hue : 
He shrieks at every danger that appears. 
Shaming the knightly arms he goodly bears ; 

His word. Safer that all, than he that nothing, fears. 

With him went Doubt, stagg'ring with steps unsure. 
That every way, and neither way inclined ; 
And fond Distrust, whom nothing could secure ; 
Suspicion lean, as if he never dined ; 

He keeps intelligence by thousand spies ; 

Argus to him bequeath'd his hundred eyes ; 
So waking still he sleeps, and sleeping wakeful lies. 

Phineas Fletcher 


Next marched Aso'iTJS, careless-spending swain ; 
Who with a fork went spreading all around, 
Which his old sire with sweating toil and pain 
Long time was raking from his racked ground : 
In giving he observ'd nor form, nor matter. 
But best reward he got, that best could flatter ; 
Thus what he thought to give, he did not give, but 

Before array'd in sumptuous bravery, 
Deck'd Court-like in the choice and newest guise ; 
But all behind like drudging Slavery, 
With ragged patches, rent, and bared thighs : 
His shameful parts, that shun the hated light. 
Were naked left, — ah foul unhonest sight ! — 
Yet neither could he see, nor feel his wretched plight. 

His shield presents to life death's latest rites, 
A sad black hearse borne up with sable swains ; 
Which many idle grooms with hundred lights 
— Tapers, lamps, torches,— usher through the plains 
To endless darkness ; while the Sun's bright brow 
With fiery beams quenches their smoking tow. 
And wastes their idle cost : Not need^ but show. 

A vagrant rout — a shoal of tattling daws — 
Strow him with vain-spent prayers, and idle lays ; 
And Flattery to his sin close curtains draws. 
Clawing his itching ear with tickling praise : 
Behind, fond Pity much his fall lamented, 
And Misery, that former waste repented : 
The usurer for his goods, jail for his bones indented. 

His steward was his kinsman. Vain-expense, 
Who proudly strove in matters light to shew 

Phineas Fletcher 

Heroick mind in braggart affluence ; 

So lost his treasure, getting nought in heu, 

But ostentation of a foolish pride ; 

While women fond, and boys stood gaping wide ; 
But wise men all his waste and needless cost deride. 


Next Pleonectes went, his gold admiring, 
His servant's drudge, slave to his basest slave ; 
Never enough, and still too much desiring : 
His gold his god, yet in an iron grave 

Himself protects his god from noisome rusting ; 

Much fears to keep, much more to lose his lusting ; 
Himself, and golden god, and every god mistrusting. 

Age on his hairs the winter snow had spread ; 
That silver badge his near end plainly proves : 
Yet as to earth he nearer bows his head, 
So loves it more ; for Like his like still loiies. 
Deep from the ground he digs his sweetest gain. 
And deep into the earth digs back with pain : 
From hell his gold he brings, and hoards in hell again. 

His clothes all patch'd with more than honest thrift. 

And clouted shoon were nail'd for fear of wasting ; 

Fasting he praised, but sparing was his drift ; 

And when he eats, his food is worse than fasting : 
Thus starves in store, thus doth in plenty pine, 
Thus wallowing on his god, his heap of mine, 

He feeds his famish'd soul with that deceiving shine. 

Oh hungry metal ! false deceitful ray ! 

Well laid'st thou dark, press'd in th' earth's hidden 

womb ; 
Yet through our mother's entrails cutting way 
We drag thy buried corse from hellish tomb : 

Phineas Fletcher 

The merchant from his wife and home departs, 
Nor at the sweUing ocean ever starts ; 
While death and Hfe a wall of thin planks only parts. 

Who was it first, that from thy deepest cell, 
With so much costly toil and painful sweat 
Durst rob thy palace, bord'ring next to hell? 
Well may'st thou come from that infernal seat ; 

Thou all the world with hell-black deeps dost fill. 

Fond men, that with such pain do woo your ill ! 
Needless to send for grief, for he is next us still. 

His arms were light, and cheap, as made to save 
His purse, not limbs ; the money, not the man ; 
Rather he dies than spends ; his helmet brave, 
An old brass pot ; breast-plate a dripping-pan : 
His spear a spit, a pot-lid broad his shield. 
Whose smoky plain a chalk'd impressa fill'd, 
A bag sure seal'd ; his word, Much better saved than 


Next brave Philotimus in post doth ride : 
Like rising ladders was his climbing mind : 
His high-flown thoughts had wings of courtly pride, 
Which by foul rise to greatest height inclined ; 
His heart, aspiring, swell'd until it burst : 
But when he gain'd the top, with spite accurst 
Down would he fling the steps by which he clamber'd 

His head's a shop furnish'd with looms of state : 
His brain the weaver, thoughts are shuttles light, 
With which, in spite of heav'n, he weaves his fate ; 
Honour his web : thus works he day and night, 

Phineas Fletcher 

Till fates cut off his thread; so heapeth sins 
And plagues, nor once enjoys the place he wins ; 
But where his old race ends, there his new race begins. 

Ah, silly man ! who dream'st that honour stands 
In ruling others, not thyself ! thy slaves 
Serve thee, and thou thy slaves : in iron bands 
Thy servile spirit press'd with wild passions raves. 

Wouldst thou live honour'd ? clip Ambition's wing ; 

To Reason's yoke thy furious passions bring : 
Thrice noble is the man who of himself is king. 

Upon his shield was framed that vent'rous lad 
That durst assay the Sun's bright-flaming team ; 
Spite of his feeble hands, the horses mad 
Fling down on burning earth the scorching beam ; 
So made the flame in which himself was fired : 
The world the bonfire was where he expired : 
His motto written thus : Yet had what he desired. 



Next Colax, all his words with sugar spices ; 

His servile tongue, base slave to greatness' name. 

Runs nimble descant on the plainest vices ; 

He lets his tongue to sin, takes rent of shame : 
He temp'ring lies, porter to th' ear resides, 
Like Indian apple, which with painted sides. 

More dangerous within his lurking poison hides. 

So Echo, to the voice her voice conforming, 
From hollow breast for one will two repay ; 
So, like the rock it holds, itself transforming, 
That subtle fish hunts for her heedless prey : 
So crafty fowlers with their fair deceits 
Allure the hungry bird ; so fisher waits 
To bait himself with fish, his hook and fish with baits. 


Phineas Fletcher 

His art is but to hide, not heal a sore, 
To nourish pride, to strangle conscience ; 
To drain the rich, his own dry pits to store. 
To spoil the precious soul, to please vile sense : 
A carrion crow he is, a gaping grave, 
The rich Coat's moth, the Court's bane, trenchers' 
slave ; 
Sin's and hell's winning bawd, the devil's fact'ring 

A mist he casts before his patron's sight. 

That blackest vices never once appear ; 

But greater than it is seems virtue's light ; 

His lord's displeasure is his only fear : 
His clawing lies, tickling the senses frail 
To death, make open way where force would fail : 

Less hurts the lion's paw, than fox's softest tail. 

His arms with hundred tongues were powder'd gay, 
— The mint of lies — gilt, fill'd, the sense to please ; 
His sword which in his mouth close sheathed lay. 
Sharper than death, and framed to kill with ease. 
Ah cursed weapon, life with pleasure spilling I 
The Sardoin herb with many branches filling 
His shield, was his device : the word, 1 please in killing. 

Base slave I how crawl'st thou from thy dunghill nest. 
Where thou wast hatch'd by shame and beggary, 
And perchest in th ■ learn'd and noble breast? 
Nobles of thee their courtship learn ; of thee 
Arts learn new art their learning to adorn : 
— Ah wretched minds ! — He is not nobly born. 
Nor learn'd, that doth not thy ignoble learning scorn. 

Close to him Pleasing went, with painted face. 
And Honour, by some hidden cunning made ; 
Not Honour's self but Honour's semblance base, 
For soon it vanish'd like an empty shade: 

Behind, his parents duly him attend ; 

With them he forced is his age to spend : 
Shame his beginning was, and shame must be his end 


Phineas Fletcher 


The first in order — nor in worth the last — 
Is Knowledge, drawn from peace and Muses' spring ; 
Where shaded in fair Sinai's groves, his taste 
He feasts with words and works of heavenly King ; 
But now to bloody field is fully bent : 
Yet still he seem'd to study as he went : 
His arms cut all in books ; strong shield slight papers 

His glittering armour shin'd like burning day, 
Garnish'd with golden suns, and radiant flowers ; 
Which turn their bending heads to Phcebus' ray, 
And when he falls, shut up their leafy bowers : 
Upon his shield the silver moon did bend 
Her hornM bow, and round her arrows spend : 
His word in silver wrote, / borrow what I lend. 

All that he saw, all that he heard, were books, 
In which he read and learn'd his Maker's will : 
Most on his word, but much on heaven he looks. 
And thence admires with praise the workman's skill. 
Close to him went still-musing Contemplation, 
That made good use of ills by meditation ; 
So to him ill itself was good by strange mutation. 

And Care, who never from his sides would part, 
Of knowledge oft the ways and means enquiring, 
To practice what he learnt from holy art ; 
And oft with tears, and oft with sighs desiring 

Aid from that sovereign Guide, Whose ways so 

Though fain he would, yet weak he could not keep : 
But when he could not go, yet forward would he creep. 


Phineas Fletcher 


Next Tapinus, whose sweet though lowly grace 
All other higher than himself esteem'd ; 
He in himself priz'd things as mean and base, 
Which yet in others great and glorious seem'd : 

All ill due debt, good undeserv'd he thought ; 

His heart a low-roof d house, but sweetly wrought 
Where God Himself would dwell, though he it dearly 

Honour he shuns, yet is the way unto Him ; 

As hell, he hates advancement won with bribes ; 

But public place and charge are forced to woo him ; 

He good to grace, ill to desert ascribes : 
Him — as his Lord — contents a lowly room, 
Whose first house was the blessed Virgin's womb, 

The next a cratch, the third a cross, the fourth a tomb. 

So choicest drugs in meanest shrubs are found ; 
So precious gold in deepest centre dwells : 
So sweetest violets trail on lowly ground ; 
So richest pearls lie closed in vilest shells : 

So lowest dales we let at highest rates ; 

So creeping strawberries yield daintiest cates. 
The Highest highly loves the low, the lofty hates. 

Upon his shield was drawn that shepherd lad. 
Who with a sling threw down faint Israel's fears ; 
And in his hand his spoils and trophies glad. 
The monster's sword and head he bravely bears : 
Plain in his lovely face you might behold 
A blushing meekness met with courage bold : 
Little^ not Utile worth, was fairly wrote in gold. 

With him his kinsman both in birth and name, 
Obedience, taught by many bitter showers 
In humble bonds his passions proud to tame, 
And low submit unto the higher powers : 

c 33 

Phineas Fletcher 

But yet no servile yoke his forehead brands ; 
For tied in such an holy service' bands, 
In this obedience rules, and serving thus, commands. 


By them went Fido, marshal of the field : 
Weak was his mother, when she gave him day : 
And he at first a sick and weakly child. 
As e'er with tears welcomed the sunny ray : 

Yet when more years afford more growth, and might, 
A champion stout he was, and puissant knight. 
As ever came in field, or shone in armour bright. 

So may we see a little lionet. 
When newly whelp'd, a weak and tender thing, 
Despised by every beast ; but waxen great, 
When fuller times full strength and courage bring, 
The beasts all crouching low, their king adore. 
And dare not see what they contemn'd before : 
The trembling forest quakes at his affrighting roar. 

Mountains he flings in seas with mighty hand ; 

Stops, and turns back the Sun's impetuous course ; 

Nature breaks Nature's laws at his command ; 

Nor force of Hell or Heaven withstands his force : 
Events to come yet many ages hence 
He present makes, by wondrous prescience ; 

Proving the senses blind, by being blind to sense. 

His sky-like arms, dyed all in blue and white. 

And set with golden stars that flamed wide ; 

His shield invisible to mortal sight. 

Yet he upon it easily descried 

The living semblance of his dying Lord, 

Whose bleeding side with wicked steel was gored. 

Which to his fainting spirits new courage would afford. 

Strange was the force of that enchanted shield. 
Which highest powers to it from heaven impart ; 


Phineas Fletcher 

For who could bear it well, and rightly wield, 
It saved from sword, and spear, and poison'd dart : 
Well might he slip, but yet not wholly fall : 
No final loss his courage might appal ; 
Growing more sound by wounds, and rising by his fall. 

So some have feign'd that Tellus' giant son 
Drew many new-born lives from his dead mother ; 
Another rose as soon as one was done. 
And twenty lost, yet still remain'd another : 
For when he fell, and kissed the barren heath. 
His parent straight inspired successive breath ; 
And though herself was dead yet ransom'd him from 



With him his nurse went, careful Acoe ; 

Whose hands first from his mother's wombdid take him, 

And ever since have fostered tenderly : 

She never might, she never would forsake him ; 
And he her loved again with mutual band : 
For by her needful help he oft did stand. 

When else he soon would fail, and fall in foemen's 


Behind him Penitence did sadly go, 
Whose cloudy dropping eyes were ever raining ; 
Her swelling tears, which ev'n in ebbing flow. 
Furrow her cheek, the sinful puddles draining : 
Much seem'd she in her pensive thought molested, 
And much the mocking world her soul infested ; 
More she the hateful world, and most herself detested. 

She was the object of lewd men's disgrace, 

The squint-eyed, wry-mouth'd scoff of carnal hearts ; 

Yet smiling heaven delights to kiss her face. 

And with his blood God bathes her painful smarts. 


Phineas Fletcher 


Next went Elpinus, dad in sky-like blue ; 
And through his arms few stars did seem to peep, 
Which there the workman's hand so finely drew, 
That rock'd in clouds they softly seem'd to sleep : 
His rugged shield was like a rocky mould, 
On which an anchor bit with surest hold : 
/ hold by being held, was written round in gold. 

Nothing so cheerful was his thoughtful face 
As was his brother Fido's : Fear seem'd dwell 
Close by his heart ; his colour chang'd apace. 
And went, and came, that sure all was not well : 
Therefore a comely maid did oft sustain 
His fainting steps, and fleeting life maintain : 
POLLICITA she hight, which ne'er could lie or feign. 


Next him Androphilus, whose sweetest mind 
'Twixt mildness temper'd, and low courtesy. 
Could leave as soon to be as not be kind : 
Churlish despite ne'er looked from his calm eye, 
Much less commanded in his gentle heart : 
To baser men fair looks he would impart ; 
Nor could he cloak ill thoughts in complimental art. 

His en'mies knew not how to discommend him, 
All others dearly loved ; fell ranc'rous Spite, 
And vile Detraction fain would reprehend him ; 
And oft in vain his name they closely bite, 

Phineas Fletcher 

As popular, and flatterer accusing : 
But he such slavish office much refusing, 
Can eas'ly quit his name from their false tongues 

His arms were framed into a glittering night, 
Whose sable gown with stars all spangled wide 
Affords the weary traveller cheerful light, 
And to his home his erring footsteps guide : 
Upon his ancient shield the workman fine 
Had drawn the Sun, whose eye did ne'er repine 
To look on good, and ill : his word To all I shine. 

(Chastity in the Single) 

With her, her sister went, a warlike maid, 
Parthenia, all in steel and gilded arms ; 
In needle's stead a mighty spear she sway'd, 
With which in bloody fields and fierce alarms 
The boldest champion she down would bear, 
And like a thunderbolt wide passage tear. 
Flinging all to the earth with her enchanted spear. 

Her goodly armour seem'd a garden green, 
Where thousand spotless lilies freshly blew ; 
And on her shield the lone bird might be seen, 
Th' Arabian bird, shining in colours new ; 

Itself unto itself was only mate ; 

Ever the same, but new in newer date ; 
And underneath was writ : Such is chaste single state. 

Thus hid in arms she seem'd a goodly knight, 

And fit for any warlike exercise : 

But when she list lay down her armour bright, 

And back resume her peaceful maiden's guise. 
The fairest maid she was, that ever yet 
Prison'd her locks within a golden net, 

Or let them waving hang, with roses fair beset. 


Phineas Fletcher 

Choice nymph ! the crown of chaste Diana's train, 
Thou Beauty's lily, set in heavenly earth ; 
Thy fairs, unpattern'd, all perfections stain : 
Sure heaven with curious pencil, at thy birth, 
In thy rare face her own full picture drew : 
It is a strong verse here to write, but true, 
Hyperboles in others are but half thy due. 

Upon her forehead Love his trophies fits, 

A thousand spoils in silver arch displaying ; 

And in the midst himself full proudly sits. 

Himself in awful majesty arraying : 

Upon her brows lies his bent ebon bow. 

And ready shafts : deadly those weapons show ; 

Yet sweet that death appear'd, lovely that deadly 
blow. . . . 

A bed of lilies flower upon her cheek, 
And in the midst was set a circling rose ; 
Whose sweet aspect would force Narcissus seek 
New liveries, and fresher colours choose 

To deck his beauteous head in snowy 'tire ; 

But all in vain : for who can hope t' aspire 
To such a fair, which none attain, but all admire. 

Her ruby lips lock up from gazing sight 
A troop of pearls, which march in goodly row : 
But when she deigns those precious bones undight. 
Soon heavenly notes from those divisions flow, 
And with rare music charm the ravish'd ears, 
Daunting bold thoughts, but cheering modest fears : 
The spheres so only sing, so only charm the spheres. . . . 

Yet all the stars which deck this beauteous sky 
By force of th' inward sun both shine and move : 
Throned in his heart sits Love's high majesty ; 
In highest majesty the highest Love. 
As when a taper shines in glassy frame, 
The sparkling crystal burns in glittering flame ; 
So does that brightest Love brighten this lovely dame. 



Love I. (p. 7). From Sicelides, III. vi. 
Love II. (p. 8). From Purple Island, X. 4. 
Love III. (p. 8). From Piscatory Eclogue VI. 
Love IV. (p. 9). From Britain's Ida, II. 
Daphne (p. 9). From Piscatory Eclogue VII. 

Line 2 : \_grace\ The original reads " part," an evident cor- 
ruption ; the word grace (or place) fits the required rhyme 
and sense. 
Orpheus and Eurydice (p. 11). From Purple Island, V. 

Line 19: The aged ferryman, i.e. Charon. 

Line 22 : Tantal, i. e. Tantalus. 

Line 34 : w<?//=: melted. 

Line 36 : That treble dog, i.e. Cerberus. 
Atyches' Soliloquy (p. 12). From Sicelides, III. vi. C/. 

Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, II. ii. 
The Seasons (p. 13). From The Locusts, V. 
Time (p. 14). From The Locusts, V. 
Morning, I. (p. 14). From Purple Island, III. 
Morning, II. (p. 14). From Purple Island, IX. 
Evening (p. 15). From Purple Island, IV. 
Night, I. (p. 15). From Purple Island, VI. 

Line 6: Cf. Milton's "To-morrow to fresh woods and pas- 
tures new." 
Night, II. (p. 15). From Locusts, Canto I. 

Line 7 : /z«e = kindle. 

Line 15 : /^/=hinder. 

Line 25 : /jV/" = pillage. 
Flowers (p. 16). From Purple Island, VI. 
A Lily (p. 17). From Purple Island, XI. 

Line 12: grograin, probably a misprint for grogram or 
grogran, i.e. a stuff made of silk. 
A Purple Flower (p. 17). From Purple Island, XI. 
The Shepherd's Life (p. 17). From Purple Island, XII. 

Line 8 : Serian may be a misprint for Syrian or Tyrian. 
To the Soul, I. (p. 18). From A Father's Testament. 
To the Soul, II. (p. 19). From A Father's Testament. 

Line 13: embraves=i.e. sets off, adorns. 



Thrice Happy Times (p. 21). From Purple Island, I. 

Death (p. 22). From Sicelides, I. 

The Fall of Lucifer (p. 22). From The Locusts, I. 

Lines 9 and 25: Cf. Milton, "Better to reign in hell than 

serve in heaven." — Paradise Lost, Book \. 
Line 24 : the springing day. Cf. Crashaw's On a Foul Morn- 
ing, line 32. 
The Instability of Human Greatness (p. 23). From Purple 
Island, VH. 
Line 15 : Assyrian Lion=7 Sardanapalus. 
Line 17 : Persian Bear=} Cyrus. 
Line 19 : betwixt a lion and <2/ar£/= Alexander. 
Line 29 : That monstrous Beast=the Church of Rome. 
Line 35 : a monk^LiUiher. 
Line 36 : that black Fulture=theTurk. 
Impersonations. From The Purple Island. 
Cosmos (p. 25). Purple Island, VIII. 4-7. 
Deilos (p. 26). Purple Island, VIII. 10-13. 
Asotus (p. 27). Purple Island, VIII. 19-23. 

Line 34 : yb«rf= foolish. 
Pleonectes (p. 28). Pzirple Island, VIII. 24-29. 

Line 41 : impresa — 's. heraldic term signifying a device. 
Philotimus (p. 29). Purple Island, VIII. 38-41. 

Line 18 is so obviously wrong that I would suggest deleting 

the word " wild," to rectify the rhythm. 
Line 22 : that vent' reus lad, i.e. Phaeton. 
Colax (p. 30). Purple Island, VIII. 44-50. 

Line 34: The Sardoin herb = i.e. a plant of Sardinia, said to 
screw up the face of the eater in a painful smile — hence 
Knowledge (p. 32). Purple Island, IX. 10-13. 
Tapinus (p. 33). Purple Island, IX. 14-18. 
Line 14 : cratch = a. crib, or manger. 
Line 22 : that shepherd /rtrf= David. 
Fido (p. 34). Purple Island, IX. 19-24. 
Acoe {p. 35). Purple Island, IX. 25. 
Penitence (p. 35). Purple Island, IX. 27, 28. 
Elpinus (p. 36). Purple Island, IX. 30. 31. 

Line 14: Pollicita, i.e. Promise. /;z]^,^/= was named. 
Androphilus (p. 36). Purple Island, X. 16-18. 
Parthenia (p. 37). Purple Island, X. 27-31, 35, 36, 38. 

TumhuU &' Spears, Printers, Edinhurgh. 

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